


Foundation

by daphnerunning



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Yuri wanted was to let anyone else get sucked into his madness, in his home or in his mind.</p><p>Too bad Kotetsu doesn't play by the rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foundation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt at t-and-b-anon, became my version of the Kotetsu/Yuri get-together fic. Warning: my headcanon Yuri is not mentally stable.

In retrospect, Yuri should have known that something was wrong when he ran out of honey for his tea.

His eyes narrowed, glaring at the empty jar as if trying to frighten faraway bees into producing faster. He briefly contemplated pouring his tea into the honey jar, then swirling it around a couple times before pouring it back into the teacup. 

“Good morning, Judge Petrov!”

Damn, there were people watching. That wouldn’t do. He had a reputation to maintain. He gnashed his teeth a little, trying to do so discreetly, and scraped the sides of the jar with his teaspoon. There wasn’t much—someone had clearly been pilfering his honey—but it would have to do.

Then, an intern bumped into him, turning a corner at the exact same moment he did, liberally spraying him with someone else’s coffee. She apologized profusely, almost in tears at the thought of losing her position, until he forced a smile and assured her that he was quite fine, did not require patting down, and had a change of suits in his office.

Really, the Heroes should have been impressed with how many people he _didn’t_ murder every day. 

Just to add to his delightful mood, there was someone waiting outside his office, even before he was able to change. “Please stand aside.”

“Judge Petrov, I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

“Later.”

“It’s very important.” The man had a commanding, urgent voice, and Yuri looked at his face for the first time.

Daniel Mason, owner of a construction mega-company that employed shady contractors. He was one of the wealthiest men in the city, most likely due to an uncanny lucky streak in gambling, both in the stock market and around the card table. 

“Mr. Mason, it is highly inappropriate of you to attempt conversation with me, as your case is on my docket for the afternoon.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why I’ve got to see you first. Won’t take but a minute of your time.”

Was the man trying to wheedle? Did he think Yuri was so easy to bribe? Yuri shouldered past him, unlocking the door to his office and entering.

Predictably, Mason followed. Yuri didn’t stop him. As a judge, it wasn’t his place to bodily eject trespassers.

“The charges brought before me are bogus and slanderous,” the man began.

Yuri held up a hand, standing in front of his desk. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything from you. This is a case for my courtroom, not my office.”

Mason tried to twinkle at him. Yuri supposed that if he were being generous, if he were less of a cynical bastard, he might have believed the man charming. As it was, all he saw was the shell of a person, filled to the brim with lies and sin. “See, I’m not here to talk about my case. It’s more of an…unrelated matter. I just thought you might being appreciated for your hard work.”

 _You have no idea how wrong you are_ , Yuri thought dryly. Those who required appreciation were unfit to be members of the legal profession in the first place. Let them go back to the silver screen where they belonged, and leave him to the law by day, justice by night. He waited patiently, silently, for Mason to finish speaking.

“It’s not in any way related,” Mason said again, “but I’d be grateful if you’d consider this a gift.” He handed over an envelope.

Yuri opened it, and was unsurprised to see a check with several zeros, made out to him. The deed to a yacht that accompanied it was a nice touch, if a little garish. What made his stomach burn with sick, hot anger wasn’t the bribe. It was the way Mason had the gall to look innocent and friendly, as if he’d done nothing more than shake hands. It was the face of a man who had, many times before, offered such “gifts” and seen them well-received. 

For just a second, Yuri entertained the idea of what he would do with the money. Donate it to a charity Mason hated? Give it to one of the man’s ex-wives, or the son he’d disowned? He didn’t have to do as the man intended, after all.

But of course, that wouldn’t do. Even having the man in his office on the day of his hearing was close enough to a breach of justice to make him uneasy. “You are a very generous giver,” he said, trying to keep at least some of the disdain out of his voice, probably not succeeding very well. “But I’m afraid I don’t wish to be bribed. Remove yourself from my office, or I’ll have you arrested on the spot.”

Mason’s face turned ugly. “You think you’re better than me? All high and mighty in your black bathrobe?”

 _If you only knew how lenient I’m being with you,_ Yuri thought to himself, savoring the anticipation of the day Mason got what was coming to him. With any luck, that would be today. “That was your warning,” he said instead, reaching for the phone.

Mason turned on his heel, snarling over his shoulder, “You’d take it if you know what’s good for you.”

Yuri didn’t bother to correct the man’s abominable use of mixed tense. Instead, he locked the door against anyone and everyone, changed into his spare suit, and tried to ignore how terrible his tea tasted.

*

It wasn’t the hard shove to his back that sent Yuri sprawling that made him angry. It wasn’t looking up to see five men, each one holding a weapon of some kind. It wasn’t even all his papers flying around after being freed from his briefcase.

What made his eyes narrow in a way that the men should have known was dangerous was that now, even his spare suit was ruined for the day.

He straightened up, brushing off what grime he could, and gave the men an icy glare. “Don’t tell me. Mason sent you to show me the error of my ways.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t mess up that pretty face too bad,” said the one that appeared to be in charge. Yuri could tell from the way he stood that he had a concealed gun, though all he held was a weighted blackjack.

Yuri looked around, surveying each man in turn. “Well, then. I recommend that you try to kill me. Otherwise, none of you will spend another day out of prison for the rest of your lives.”

“Try? There’s five of us!”

One man advanced, and Yuri’s blood rushed fast through his veins, adrenaline coursing through his nervous system. He raised his hands, eyes sparking to life, the joy of the fight ready to take him over and please his Lord.

“Hey! Leave him alone!”

Yuri turned to look, and immediately caught a broad fist across his face for the trouble. He locked down his power fast, suddenly all too aware that there was someone else in the alley. He turned, saw none other than the stupid little catbeard of Kaburagi Kotetsu, and silently swore.

Everything devolved into chaos. Fists were flying, a guns were drawn, men got in each others’ way,  and no one was too sure who was supposed to be hitting whom. Yuri took a hard hit to the stomach that sent him wheezing, and saw Kaburagi go flying into the wall at one point.

He looked quickly at the man, but the Tiger appeared to be unconscious. Thinking fast, Yuri turned so he was kneeling, facing away from Mason’s thugs, and called on his powers.

The moon turned red.

One man grabbed his hair, wrenching him backwards at a painful angle, and he faked a gasp of terror, pointing up at the sky.

The thug holding him didn’t look up, but one of the others did. He dropped his bat, punching the leader in the arm. “L-lunatic! Lunatic’s coming!”

They took off, and Yuri had to use every ounce of willpower he possessed not to engulf them in flame as they ran. 

 _Punish their sins! Wipe their evil from the world, one less patch of filth defiling the city!_

No. He couldn’t. It was barely twilight, and there were people around. Not immediately in the vicinity, but close enough that he could hear them.

 _Don’t let them escape, Yuri. This is your mission. Don’t fail me._

Yuri’s head hurt, and he clenched his teeth against the desire to obey his Master’s voice. 

A groan filled the alleyway, and Yuri spun quickly, looking for the source. If it was another of Mason’s thugs—

It was Kaburagi. He lay on the ground, sprawled on his front, breathing labored after the fight, only now returning to consciousness. The idiot had nearly gotten them both killed. If he hadn’t intervened—as _always_ , he’d _had_ to intervene—Yuri would have burned the men to fluttering ash in seconds flat. 

Why?

Why did he have to ruin everything?

Why did he have to interfere _again?_

Why did he always have to butt in, trying to help people?

 _Why_ did Yuri feels so guilty about it?

Kaburagi’s eyes cracked open, and the man sighed in relief. “Good. I was afraid they’d hurt you, or worse. Sorry I wasn’t much help.”

“It’s fine,” Yuri said crisply, trying to ignore the way his scar started to ache. It did that every time he saw the man’s face, every time he heard that self-deprecating voice. Really, he should just leave the man to groan in the alley. It was his own idiotic sentiment that had gotten him into this mess. If he’d stayed out of it, there wouldn’t have been a problem.

 _Leave him. You can still catch the evildoers._

And yet.

 _Yuri!_

Yet the man was bleeding.

 _How many innocents will bleed because you let those sinners escape?_

Kotetsu was bleeding and wounded because of _him_. Because he’d tried to help Yuri, no matter the consequences to his own life.

No matter that Yuri had seen Wild Tiger One-Minute apprehend a criminal using his powers not forty-five minutes ago on television. Kaburagi had known he had no powers left, and yet he chose to help.

The man used the wall to pull himself up, wincing at the pain. “They didn’t get you too bad, did they? Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Yuri snapped. “This had nothing to do with you.”

Kaburagi blinked, eyes a little dazed. “I’m a Hero. Maybe only a second-string Hero, but that’s still a Hero.”

Yuri opened his mouth to object, grimaced when he felt his lip split open and start bleeding again. The two of them must look a mess, he thought, standing on opposite sides of the alley and arguing about human nature. He made up his mind, and got the older man’s arm around his shoulders. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“My place. It isn’t far.”

“Why—“

“Because it isn’t far, you’ve got a concussion, and I want to disinfect every part of myself.”

Kaburagi grunted in assent. “Sounds good.”

*

The lights were off at Yuri’s house, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His mother wasn’t anything he wanted to deal with, not right now, not when his emotions were so frayed from being around Kaburagi. He unlocked the door, flicked on a light, and held one finger to his lips.

Kaburagi grinned, and elbowed Yuri in the ribs. 

Ow.

“Trying not to wake up your wife?”

“What?” Yuri dragged the man through the living room, up the staircase, then into his personal bathroom. “Just hold still, all right?”

Kaburagi sat obediently on the closed toilet seat as Yuri went through the medicine cabinet. It wasn’t as good as the one downstairs, but who had time to explain a Lunatic-themed dungeon to a visiting Hero?

At least it had disinfectant. He applied some liberally to a cotton ball, then went about swabbing Kaburagi’s hands.

“I’m really fine,” the man insisted, though he swayed even while sitting down.

“Your hands are a mess, you’ve obviously got a concussion, and your ankle is sprained.”

“It is?”

“Yes. Look.” To prove his point, Yuri leaned down and poked Kaburagi’s ankle, smiling a little when the other man’s face went white. “Now sit still and let me do this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s more difficult if you’re moving around.”

“No, I mean why bring me back to your house? Why do this? Why not just drop me off at a hospital?”

Damn, the man was still thinking clearly. It was a pity there was no one way for a concussion to behave. Yuri finished wiping down the right hand, then moved to the left one. “I’d have rather thought you’d had your fill of hospitals, what with the frequency of your injuries.”

“Well…what can I say? I’m getting older. Don’t run as fast as I used to, and my power gives out so soon.”

For a moment, Yuri felt his scar as acutely as the moment he’d received it, carved into his flesh by the burning hand of the man he loved more than anything in the world. His breath caught at the pain, and he blinked fast against the hot prickle of tears in his eyes. That would never do.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about Hero stuff while you’re off work.”

Yuri frowned at him. “You do. You were off work when you…” he wanted to say _“interfered,_ ” but that wouldn’t be prudent. Instead, he spat out, “…saved me.”

Kaburagi grimaced. “Hey, what’s with the tone? You were outnumbered. I only wanted to help.”

But he hadn’t helped, Yuri’s mind hissed. He’d gotten in the way, thwarted the will of Thanatos for the umpteenth time.

And yet.

“It isn’t just a job to you, is it?” he asked quietly, moving on to Kotetsu’s ankle. He wrapped an Ace bandage around and around, using the opportunity to avoid looking into those warm brown eyes.

“Of course not! When your job is to protect people, it’s…it’s your whole life, you know? Or it should be. Doesn’t matter if you’re doing it on TV or not.”

“Not all the Heroes think like that.”

Kaburagi shrugged. “That’s their business. Hey, is that clock right?”

Yuri checked, then nodded.

“It’s only eight? Wow. How early does your wife go to bed?”

“Why on earth would you think I have a wife? What possibly gave you that impression?”

Kaburagi raised his eyebrows, looking confused. “Well…there was a throw pillow on the couch downstairs. That’s the kind of thing women care about. And you were trying not to wake someone up. And there were knitting magazines on your coffee table. And there’s makeup in your medicine cabinet.” 

“Very observant.”

“Thank you. I pride myself on—“

“And where exactly is my wedding ring?”

Kaburagi stopped mid-sentence, looked down at Yuri’s hand as it methodically wrapped the bandage, and shut his mouth.

Yuri finished bandaging the man’s ankle, then stood up. “If you are able to walk—“

“What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

Kaburagi shook his head, then pointed at the edge of the bathtub. “Sit down, your Honor. You patched me up, I can do the same.”

Yuri wanted to protest that he could patch himself up, had done it many times before, but of course that wasn’t part of his public face. He sat.

From the ease with which Kaburagi applied antiseptic first to the swabs, then to Yuri’s abrasions, he also was no novice at self-care. He disinfected Yuri’s knuckles first, whistling low under his breath. “You can really throw a punch. I wasn’t expecting you to be so good at that.”

Yuri started. “You saw?”

“I wasn’t unconscious for _everything_ ,” Kaburagi teased. “I did do some useful stuff, I think. I saw that guy with the potbelly get you in the ribcage, but I didn’t think you could move so fast.”

“My father taught me,” Yuri said, and could have slapped himself for blurting out those words. He shut his mouth, clenched his jaw tightly shut, and resolved not to say another word.

“Yeah? My old man, too. I don’t think he did it for the right reasons, though.” His face flushed a little, and he pulled back. “Sorry. I don’t usually talk about myself.”

“Neither do I.” _Usually? Try ever._ It was one of the little things he had convinced himself he didn’t miss, over the last fifteen years. He didn’t miss opening up to people. He didn’t miss bragging about his father. He didn’t miss having someone to clean him up after he got hurt.

 _Then why are you letting him do it now?_

He flinched when Kaburagi touched his face, then steeled himself. 

“Hold still,” Kaburagi said, swabbing his cheek. “Damn, they really got you. Looks like they pulled out a chunk of your hair, too.”

His fingers moved along the line of Yuri’s jaw, up to the bloody patch near his temple. 

 _Too close!_ The voice in his mind shrieked, and Yuri knocked the man’s hand away before he could feel not smooth skin, but scarred flesh covered in makeup. “I don’t like people touching my face,” he said, turning so his hair fell in a comforting sheet, obscuring what was hidden under the foundation. His hands shook, but he couldn’t tell if it was fear or the desire to let the fire out, do his Lord’s bidding.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just trying to help.” 

Yuri let out a long breath, and the lines of his bathroom tile wavered in the heat. Inept, clumsy, and more harm than he was good, Kaburagi was only trying to help. 

Despite receiving no apology, Kaburagi touched Yuri’s shoulder, clucking through his teeth. “That’s got to hurt. Can you get your shirt rolled up that far?”

Yuri wanted to protest again that it was fine, that he could look after himself.

And yet.

He’d been looking after himself for so long. 

How much could it really hurt to let someone else take just a little of that weight off him, just for one night?

Wordlessly, Yuri unbuttoned his shirt, slid it off his shoulder. Just for a few minutes, he promised himself. Maybe….just maybe, it would be all right.

“Huh. You’ve got a lot more muscle than I expected.”

“You expected me to be a weakling?”

“You’re a judge. It’s not exactly a rough and tough job.”

“Fair enough.”

“It’s a good look for you.”

“Hmm?”

“When you relax. You’re always so stiff.”

“I’m a judge, Mr. Kaburagi. It’s not exactly a wild and crazy job. You only see me in a professional sense.”

“So, let’s go out. You can come out to the bar with me and the boys.”

Yuri floundered for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse that wasn’t _“Sorry, I have to put on my mask and become your arch nemesis tonight.”_ Besides, that was overdramatic. No one had arch nemeses any more, these days.

“Or not,” Kaburagi said, seeing his discomfort. “You’ve probably got plans.”

“Yes.”

“What are they?”

Yuri was usually so quick, so good at coming up with the appropriate lie for every situation. What was it about Kaburagi? What was it about this man that threw him off his game, made his scar ache, made him emotional instead of focused? Whatever it was, he had to get control of the situation, and fast. “Don’t you think it’s unprofessional of us to spend time together outside of work? After all, there could be accusations of favoritism.”

Kaburagi snorted. “Not a chance. Everyone knows you’re the fairest judge in Sternbild. Anyone says you’re not, you send ‘em to me. I’ll show them all the fines you’ve given me.”

What _was_ it about this man?

Did he know— _could_ he know?—that every single thing he did made Yuri’s emotions whirl in his mind, a confusing maelstrom of feelings he’d thought buried, if not dead?

The worst part was, to Kaburagi, this was a typical evening. Yuri could see that in the man’s expression. Go out, get into a fight, bandage hands, talk and joke and go out with friends.

Something crashed downstairs, and Yuri shot to his feet so fast Kaburagi fell backwards off the toilet seat. “What—“

Yuri didn’t stop to explain. He took the stairs three, four at a time, flicking on switches from long practice as he did so, landing heavily on the first floor. His mother was lying crumpled at the end of the sofa, the side table overturned, the glass of a picture frame shattered. She looked up at his approach, eyes unfocused. “I…I fell…”

Yuri knelt next to her, checking her silently for cuts from the broken glass. She let him, for all of twenty seconds.

Then her expression changed into one of horror, and she looked at him clearly for the first time. “D-don’t touch me! You! You did this!”

Yuri pulled away, just as footsteps behind him—damn it—foretold Kaburagi’s arrival. 

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No.” Yuri had to repeat himself over his mother’s screaming. He turned to tell Kaburagi to get out of his house, out of his life, to save himself from the madness that had been the Petrov home for twenty years. 

When he did, something struck the back of his head, sharp metal making him bite his lip. The empty picture frame clattered to the floor, one corner a little red. He turned back to his mother, trying again to reach out, help her back into her wheelchair, but she slapped and kicked at him. “Get away from me! Devil child! I wish you’d never been born!”

Then came the weeping, the broken sobbing hysterics, and Yuri stood up. “Get out of here, Mr. Kaburagi,” he said, looking down at the wreck of a woman he still loved deeply. “This is no place for you.”

Instead, Kotetsu went down on one knee next to his mother and started picking up shards of broken glass. 

“What are you doing?” Yuri snapped. “That’s mine. I’ll take care of it.”

“You look like you could use the help.”

That was too much, on top of the screaming, the crying, his already frayed nerves and the voice of Thanatos, disgusted and disappointed in him. He smacked Kotetsu’s hands, making him drop the shards, and hauled him to his feet by his collar, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. “This is my house,” he snarled, keeping the flames in check by only the barest of margins. “This is my house, and my mother, and my mess to clean up, so get _out_. I don’t need your help!”

“But—“

“Out!” He released Kotetsu, reminding himself far too late that it wasn’t good for his secret identity to start hauling Heroes bodily around. He pointed to the door, then turned and went back to his mother’s side without a word. 

She was only weeping now, lying facedown on the floor, brokenhearted whimpers of longing making her tremble and shake. 

“Mama,” Yuri said quietly, and she didn’t hit him when he touched her. He picked her up easily, and she clung to his neck like a child when he carried her back to her room.

“Yuri,” she said between hiccups, and reached out for him when he started to leave. Without another word, he laid down on the bed next to her. 

It was an hour before she stopped crying, finally slipping from tortured remembrance to uneasy sleep.

Yuri didn’t sleep at all. 

*

Yuri threw down the newspaper, rubbing hard at the bridge of his nose. Yes, perhaps he’d been a little _aggressive_ the past week or so, but calling him a serial killer was ridiculous. Everyone in the city knew why Lunatic sought out those he did. There were even fan clubs and blogs, not that he visited them.

Well, not _often_.

For the first time, the editor of the Sternbild Times was making him reconsider his mission to include smart-ass newspaper editors as well as murderers. Surely, having the Heroes attempt to thwart him at every turn was bad enough. Did he really have to endure a campaign like this as well? It was too much for the day. The sooner he got home, the sooner Lunatic could accomplish the night’s business.

“Hey, Petrov,” Judge Calles said, emerging from Courtroom G as he passed. “You see the Times today?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you think of it?”

Yuri smiled, the way he knew made the other members of the Justice Bureau want to stop talking to him immediately. “I loved it. I can’t wait until Lunatic repents for his crimes and is brought to justice.”

Calles shook his head. “Means less work for us when he’s running around.”

“Not all of us are afraid of a little hard work. If you’ll excuse me.”

Damned clever newspaper editor. Did he really think his saccharine-sweet approach would work?

 When Yuri arrived at home, he almost groaned aloud. “Mr. Kaburagi,” he said, struggling to keep his tone even, “I’ve told you before that loitering outside my home is a crime.”

 _Go away. You confuse me. I don’t want to want you in my life._

Kaburagi held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know, I know, you said that you couldn’t have me in again because of your mother.”

That was what he’d said last time Kaburagi showed up at his house uninvited, yes, though it was far from the first excuse he’d given.

“Well, I have the perfect solution!” Kaburagi opened the door of his car, then helped an elderly woman out of the passenger’s seat. “Ta-da! It’s my mother!”

 _What?_

 _No!_

 _What?_  

Yuri stared in confusion at the little woman, who was currently poking her son and demanding that he stop introducing her in such a silly way. “Mrs. Kaburagi,” he said, trying to remember when his life took such a confusing turn, “I’m afraid your son has misled you.”

She looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “He said your mother likes knitting. I brought over some patterns for her to look at.”

“Well, yes, but she’s—“

“He also said she was ill.” Her eyes were kind as she advanced up the stairs to the door. “I’ve known my share of people, Judge Petrov, sick and well. If you don’t mind, I’d like to meet your mother.”

Yuri, as was _only_ the case when Kaburagi was involved, found himself at a loss for words. The woman was here, with her son, and he couldn’t turn them away without a good reason. Kaburagi might have been dense, but he was still a Hero. There was also the chance that he might mention to someone more intelligent than himself what he’d seen in the Petrov home, and someone might start asking questions.

Finally, he unlocked the door. “Please, come in. And Mrs. Kaburagi, I beg of you, don’t take any of what my mother says too seriously. She’s quite unwell.”

“Don’t apologize for your mother, boy. That’s not respectful to your elders.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said automatically, and was embarrassed to feel his cheeks flush. “Here, let me show you in.”

His mother was at least in a good mood, or what passed for one these days. She looked up vaguely when three people came into her living room. “Hello. Are you friends of my husband?”

“Mama, these are my friends.”

She smiled up at the Kaburagis. “From school, dear?”

Mrs. Kaburagi patted Yuri on the hand. “You two don’t worry about us. We’ll get along fine.” She sat on the couch, running her fingers over the blanket draped over the back. “Did you do this? I love the cabling.”

Origa’s eyes lit up. “I did! I knitted it for my husband when we got married. Yuri had a matching one in his crib when he was a baby. My mother taught me, back in the Old Country.”

“Ah. It was my grandfather that taught me, during the war. They had to make their own socks back then, the soldiers.”

“Did you knit for the boys too?” Origa beamed. “They don’t want to learn these days. I can’t get my Yuri to pick up a pair of needles to save his life. He thinks it’s girly.”

Kotetsu nudged Yuri with his elbow. “You don’t have to look so surprised. Women love to talk.”

“How stereotypical an assumption, especially from you.”

“Why especially from me?”

“Because from what I’ve seen, you never shut up.”

Still, he didn’t protest too hard when Kotetsu led him out of the house and to his favorite bar. There were worse things to do on a Thursday night, he supposed.

Like anything he’d ever done on a Thursday night, for example.

Three drinks in, he pulled the newspaper out of his jacket pocket. “You see this article?” he asked, horrified at the way his words were already slurring. 

“Which one?”

“This one. The Dear Lunatic one.”

“Oh. Yeah! They had my kid’s school do letters for that.”

Yuri shook his head. “No way it’s gonna work. He’s a killer, right? That’s what they said. Serial Killer. Can’t be stopped, can’t be saved. Why do they bother?”

If it wasn’t his imagination, Kaburagi looked a little hurt. “Well, I think it’s a good idea.”

Yuri scoffed, picking up the paper and reading one of the blurbs aloud. “Dear Lunatic: My name is Abbie and I am eight. When you kill people it makes me sad. Please stop because killing people is wrong. Love, Abbie.” 

Kaburagi took the paper from him, reading another one. “Dear Mr. Lunatic: My name is Joachim and I am six. I think that if I had powers like you I would be a Hero and not fight the Heroes because I love the Heroes and then you could wear better clothes. Love, Joachim, but everyone calls me Joey.”

“Little out of line to make fun of his costume,” Yuri muttered, and ordered another drink. 

“Hey, here’s the one my daughter wrote! Want to hear?”

“Desperately,” Yuri said into his glass, rolling his eyes.

“Dear Mr. Lunatic,” Kaburagi read, a dopey smile on his face. “My name is Kaede, and I’m eleven years old. I know you think you’re making the world a better place by ridding it of evil, but isn’t that why we have Heroes and policemen and lawyers and judges? I’m a NEXT, and I just want you to know that if you don’t stop killing people by the time I graduate Hero Academy, I’m going to kick your butt! But I really hope you do stop. Love, Kaede.”

Kotetsu grinned from ear to ear. “Isn’t she great?”

“Charming. She’s definitely your daughter.” Yuri took the paper back, finally reading out loud the one that had been stuck in his head all day. “Dear Mr. Lunatic: My name is Jamie, and I am nine years old. You killed my father. My father was a very bad man, and I think it was good that he died. But I’m sorry for you, because now you must be a very bad man too. I hope you don’t ever hurt your kids. My mom also says that if you are ever in the neighborhood she wants to give you a present. Love, Jamie.”

“Wow.”

“That’s not the half of it.” Yuri’s voice was low, cold. “I sentenced this boy’s father. I remember him.”

“How do you know? It doesn’t say last names or anything.”

“A nine-year-old child named Jamie whose murdering father was killed by Lunatic? How many can there be?”

“Fair enough.”

Yuri looked down at the remnants of his drink, murky gold at the bottom of his glass. “His mother is a drug-addicted prostitute. He was removed from his home for his own protection a few days ago. He’ll never see either of his parents again.”

“That’s horrible.” Kotetsu looked genuinely upset, despite having never met either of the people involved. “Isn’t there anything anyone can do?”

“Like what? Do you know a NEXT that can go back in time?”

“I just mean…”

“Not every man is the father Wild Tiger is.” Those words came out more bitter than he’d intended, and he gulped the last of his drink to make up for it.

Kotetsu—when had he started thinking of the man as Kotetsu?—shook his head. “I’m not a great father. I’m trying to be, but it’s harder than I thought it would be. There’s all this _stuff_ you have to know—her favorite color, which changes every day, her favorite Hero, which is _never_ me, the boys she likes at school, her favorite toy, her favorite clothes—“

“You don’t need any of that. Just…kids remember if you loved them or not. Kids remember if you were there for them or not.”

 _“I was there. I was there for you, Yuri.”_

“Great,” Yuri muttered, his vision doubling a bit. “Move over. You’re crowding my friend.”

“Huh? Who are you talking to?”

“Dead man,” Yuri said under his breath. His stomach turned, and he bolted for the bathroom.

 _“Why did you drink so much, Yuri? You know you can’t handle your liquor._ ”

“I don’t want to hear a lesson on alcohol from you!”

 _“Is this what you killed me for? So you could turn into this man?”_

Yuri’s stomach heaved again, and he collapsed to his knees in front of the toilet, vomiting up everything he’d consumed in the past several hours. “Please, Papa, not now.”

 _“Is this your great Justice? Did a letter from a child send you looking for reassurance from the only father you know?”_

“I’m doing what’s right,” Yuri whispered. “I’m doing what’s necessary.”

 _“Are you?”_

“Yes! I’m doing what I have to—I’m trying to rid the world of evil, for you!”

“Yuri? I mean, Judge Petrov? Is that you?”

Yuri wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and flushed the toilet, getting to his feet. He emerged from the stall, hands trembling, eyes red and watery. “I had too much too fast,” he confessed, washing his hands briskly under the cold tap. He didn’t look at Kotetsu’s concerned face, not when Mr. Legend still hovered in the mirror. 

“Who were you talking to?” Kotetsu checked under the stall doors, but saw no feet. “You were talking about evil and justice and stuff.”

Yuri’s scar ached, and he didn’t feel like coming up with a good lie right then. “I’m tired,” he announced. “Being around you makes me tired. I’m going home.”

For the first time, he saw Kotetsu get angry. “You just wait a second. You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what? I want to go home.” His voice sounded pathetic to his own ears, weak and whining. He could almost feel his father’s disappointment rolling over him in waves, and it was too much for one night.

Kotetsu’s anger faded into concern, and somehow that was so much worse. “Look,” he said, a little awkwardly, “I get that you’ve got stuff going on in your family, and I’m trying to help you out, but I think you’ve got a lot of stuff going on in your head. You don’t have to tell me or anything, but I’d like to help.”

“I…” 

His father was still there, arms folded over his massive chest, looking the very picture of an imposing Hero. And here was Wild Tiger, the man that everyone said was Mr. Legend’s direct successor.

Here he was, proudly admitting his own declining powers, caring nothing about his own reputation.

Here he was, reading his daughter’s letter about how she’d outdo him someday, only pride on his face. 

Here he was, kind, compassionate, for absolutely no reason, when Yuri absolutely did not deserve it.

Kotetsu sighed, then said, “Brace yourself. This is going to be weird, okay?”

And he actually hugged Yuri.

Hugged him, around the chest and arms, pulling him close against that warm body and just _holding_ him.

Mr. Legend vanished as if he’d never been. For the first time since his father’s death, even the cold whispers of Thanatos were silent. There was warmth, and peace, and rest.

“There,” Kotetsu said, still holding him, nearly a minute later. “I don’t know why, but you needed that, right?”

Yuri stiffened at the word and would have pulled away, but Kotetsu held him tighter. “Nah, I didn’t mean anything by it. Everyone has to have someone to go to. Everyone needs a place they can go at three in the morning when everything’s wrong. Even judges.”

Yuri let out a brief laugh, finally pulling away. “All right. I’ll buy that. Are you saying I can come to you at three in the morning? If everything’s wrong?”

Kotetsu nodded. “Yeah. I’m saying that. And I hope you do.”

It wasn’t much to go on, Yuri thought. But it was a beginning.

*

Yuri fell against the door, hardly getting his key out before he started to sag. He turned the key, didn’t bother shutting or locking the door before staggering inside. He fell to his knees, panting, hand clutched to the bloody gash in his side. His leg could hardly support his weight; the kneecap was dislocated, and his nerves screamed with pain.

 _Heroes. Idiots. They know not what they do._

He ground his teeth together against the pain, crawling to the door in the hallway. He shoved his key in, tripped the secret switches, and tumbled painfully down the stairs to his basement.

He lay on the floor, breath wheezing out in ragged pants. The blood trickled through his fingers, seeping out against the floor. It wasn’t the first time he’d bled on this cold stone, but it was the first time in such quantity. 

 _“What do you think now, Yuri? Do you still believe in what you did?”_

“Papa.” His voice came out broken and high-pitched. The fingers of his free hand scrabbled against the floor, pulling him towards the medicine cabinet. He got halfway there, then collapsed.

He could see the Heroes coming at him, as he flitted easily after the criminal. 

He could see the criminal, Reginald Whorl, suddenly reveal previously unknown NEXT powers. He turned, crystal spikes shooting out of his fingers at blinding speed. 

Yuri incinerated them, molten glass falling down to the city below.

He didn’t see the other hand coming up, or the spike that drove right through his side and out the other. The Heroes, idiots that they were, had immediately tried to apprehend _him_ instead of Whorl, and Sky High had gotten a lucky whip of wind to the side of his knee.

He escaped, barely, but he was bleeding badly and had to risk flying the whole way home with his fire.

And now, he couldn’t even work up the strength to get to the medicine cabinet.

 _“Is this where your life ends?”_ his father demanded. _“Have you realized your own sins after all?”_

“Papa,” Yuri said again, unable to say anything else. He closed his eyes, feeling the last of the warmth leaving his body. At least it had been in the service of his Master. At least…no. He couldn’t be all right with dying, not now. His mother still needed him. It was still his fault she didn’t have a husband.

It was all his fault.

Strong hands lifted him from the floor. “Papa,” he sighed again, relaxing into that touch, and passed out.

When he came to, sensations trickled in gradually. There should have been pain, but there was only a curious numbness. Somewhere in his mind, he recognized the top-shelf painkillers he’d procured years ago, rarely used.

He moved his hand, but it didn’t go far. He was weak, had obviously lost a lot of blood.

“Don’t try to move.”

He couldn’t in any case. 

“You’ve been out for three days.”

He tried to talk, but his mouth felt like it was full of dry cotton, and the words came out garbled.

“Your mother is fine. She’s staying at my house.”

Something about that penetrated the thick fog in Yuri’s mind, and his eyes flew open. His vision swam, then eventually resolved into the figure of Kaburagi T. Kotetsu, sitting by his bedside.

In his basement.

Oh, _shit_.

He tried moving his hand again. It wasn’t stuck because he was weak, he saw now. He was tied to the bed.

 _Captured._

 _By this imbecile._

Tears burned at his eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. 

“Calm down!” Kotetsu’s voice was alarmed, and he laid a hand on Yuri’s arm. “You’re not under arrest. I didn’t call the cops either.”

Yuri managed to rasp out, “Then…why?”

“I was afraid you’d hurt yourself. You were tossing and turning a lot, and it kept opening your stab wound.”

He calmed down a little, but his heart still pounded. He licked his lips, and Kotetsu pressed a glass of water to his mouth. He gulped, and gulped, until his stomach felt odd and full. “How?” he asked, when Kotetsu pulled the glass away. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t.” Kotetsu looked uncomfortable, and Yuri saw that he’d turned all the Lunatic masks to face the wall. “Whorl got me in the shoulder. I was hoping you’d wrap me up like last time. I saw the door open, and all the blood, and…”

“And you went down the stairs.”

“That door was open, too. I’d never seen it before.”

“Yeah. It’s a hidden door.”

“Well, it would be, wouldn’t it?” Kotetsu said sharply, then shook his head. “I saw you lying on the ground. I…I didn’t know it was you, at first, but…I…when I pulled off…I’d always wanted to take it off…”

“You pulled off the mask.”

Yuri was prepared for anger, for righteous fury, for the sneering justice his father had always shown in his visions. He steeled himself against them.

He was totally unprepared for Kotetsu’s expression. The other man looked…betrayed. 

It was the same look Yuri had seen in the mirror, the first time Papa had hit Mama where Yuri could see.  It said, clear as anything, _“I believed in you.”_

 _“I trusted you.”_

Yuri couldn’t bear it. For the first time since accepting his mission, he felt his resolve crumbling. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“How could you? You’re supposed to be a judge! You’re supposed to uphold the law!”

“I do! It’s the evildoers that I punish!”

“That’s not for you to decide!”

“Then who? Who is to decide, if not we NEXT? We’re the ones with the powers! It’s our duty to protect those who can’t protect themselves from sinners!”

“Is this because of your father?”

The question hit him like a slap in the face. “What?”

“I’ve been here for three days,” Kotetsu reminded him, eyes dark. “I’ve seen the pictures on the walls in your mother’s room. I…I know who he was.” He swallowed hard, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I don’t want to believe it.”

“Why? Because he’s your _idol_?” Yuri spat the word out, and Kotetsu flinched. 

“No. Because…I put the pieces together, okay? My mom, she’s been telling me some of the stuff your mom says. I know he hit you, okay?”

“That’s a lie!” 

“She told me—“

“He didn’t hit me. He—only once. It was her. Not me.” He hadn’t spoken of it in fifteen years—no. He hadn’t spoken of it, ever. The only people who knew about it had been there. 

Kotetsu looked at him, sympathetic, and in addition to the numbing influence of the painkillers it was too much. Yuri started speaking, slow, haltingly. “He lost his powers.”

“I know. I found out last year. I heard…I heard they staged arrests so he could get the ratings.”

“That wasn’t his idea!” _Don’t think about him like that, Kotetsu. He was a good man. He was a Hero._ “He never wanted that. That was all Maverick’s idea. Papa—my father, I mean—he hated the fake arrests. He felt…useless.” 

A muscle in Kotetsu’s jaw twitched. “I get that.”

Yuri looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to keep talking, but the words wouldn’t stop. “He started drinking. It’s what men do, where we’re from. It changed him. Not only when he was drinking, either. If he wasn’t drunk, he was hungover. I hated seeing him like that.”

“How old were you?”

“When it started? Twelve, maybe thirteen.” He swallowed hard. “Fifteen when it…when I…when it stopped.”

“You killed him.”

“I didn’t mean to!” The voice that came out of Yuri’s throat wasn’t that of a man, a respected judge, or a vigilante. It was that of a teenager, pleading, sorry. “I didn’t know I was a NEXT. I thought…I thought if I just stood up to him, if he understood what he was doing was wrong, he’d stop.”

“You stood up to him without your powers?” Kotetsu scratched at his beard absently. It had grown out in the last few days, no longer carefully shaped into points. “That must have taken guts.”

“I was stupid. He told me to be strong, but I…I didn’t know what to do. That’s when my powers activated for the first time.”

“Is that how you got your scar?”

“My—“ Yuri tried to put his hand to his face, but the restraints prevented him.

“I couldn’t believe it when I took off your mask. How the hell do you keep something like that hidden? Wait….the makeup, in your bathroom?”

“Don’t look at it.” It was stupid, childish. Kotetsu had been seeing it for three days, after all. Still, he couldn’t fight the fear—the desire to hide it, hide his shame, his curse, from everyone.

 _“Now that you’ve been found out, what will you do? Will you kill him, Yuri? Like you killed me?”_

“I should,” he said softly, to the yellow-and-red figure standing behind Kotetsu. 

“Should what?”

“Kill you.” Damn the painkillers and their effect on his loose tongue. “I could.”

Kotetsu spread his arms, making no effort to defend himself. “Maybe. My power’s down to one minute, but you’re pretty heavily medicated. I’m willing to take those odds.”

 _I should kill him right here._ But the voice in his head was quieter than usual. It always was, when Kotetsu was around.

“You know I could burn through these restraints in seconds.”

“I told you, they’re not for keeping you prisoner. They were just so you didn’t open your stab wound.”

Yuri blinked. “You actually meant that?”

“I mean what I say, okay?” Just to prove it, Kotetsu untied Yuri’s restraints, awkwardly and with his left hand. “There. You can go if you want.”

Yuri eyed him, suspicious. “Go?”

“Yeah. As in, leave. You’re not under arrest.”

“Why not?”

Kotetsu ran his hand through his hair, rumpling it further. Now that Yuri got a good look at the man, he didn’t seem to be in much better shape than Yuri. There were dark stains on his shoulder, and he only moved with a hiss of pain. There were bags under his eyes the likes of which Yuri usually only saw under his own. “Let me make you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Two choices. First choice is, nothing happens. I leave. And as soon as I see Lunatic again, I’m going to catch him.” He shrugged. “Or die. Probably die. But I’ll try not to. I really don’t want to die.”

“And my secret dies with you?”

Kotetsu shook his head. “I can’t let that happen. You’re murdering people, and it _has_ to stop. So I put it in Bunny’s Hero Letter.”

“Hero Letter?” Even as Hero Curator, Yuri had never heard of that.

“Yeah. The one that the person you’re closest to has to open after your death. I wrote down who you are. If I die, he’ll know.”

As much as Yuri hated to admit it, that made a difference. He might have had a personal loathing for everything Barnaby Brooks Jr. stood for as a Hero—commercialism, favoritism, nepotism, showmanship—but he couldn’t deny the man was clever and strong. He’d also bring in reinforcements, and Yuri’s cover would be shattered. “Very well. What’s the second option?”

“Come home with me.”

“What?” 

“Until you’re better. I’ve got time off because of my shoulder. Come with me, out of Sternbild. I’ll make sure you get better, you can bring whatever medicine and whatever you want, and I have until your wound heals to talk you out of being Lunatic. Okay?”

The man was insane. Even the translucent form of Mr. Legend was staring at Kotetsu, incredulous. “That’s it? Just…go to your home and let you talk to me? What happens after?”

“I’ll take that bit out of my Hero Letter. I’m not asking for that much, Yuri.”

Yuri still couldn’t tell whether or not he should believe this man, who had ruined _everything_ with his meddling. But…

“Just until my wound heals.” He closed his eyes, hoping he wasn’t making a horrible mistake. “After that, all bets are off.”

When Kotetsu smiled, Mr. Legend dissolved into thin air.

*

This was a mistake. A horrible, stupid mistake that he could only blame on painkillers. Surely, no amount of torment, no lonely isolation, no death by crystal spires could be worse than this.

“And that’s why, by learning to love yourself, you can learn to love other people,” Kotetsu declared triumphantly, shutting the book.

Yuri tried counting backward from a thousand—from ten thousand—to calm his temper. “Kotetsu,” he said slowly, “if you read me one more self-help book about coping with the abuse of an alcoholic father, I am going to murder you. This is not an empty threat. I am a murderer, as you have so helpfully reminded me.”

“Aw, I liked that one.” Kotetsu wasn’t deterred in the least, Yuri saw to his dismay. He flipped through the stack of books he’d checked out from the library, moving “Adult Children of Alcoholic Parents: Breaking the Cycle” to the floor. “Hey, this one is about how kids of abusive parents grow up to be abusers themselves.”

“I am not—“

“You are to Sternbild. Come on, this one has fun pictures.”

“I am not an abusive parent to the city of Sternbild!”

“The most important step,” Kotetsu read aloud, “is the first one. Admitting you have a problem.”

“Sentence fragment,” Yuri groaned. “The second sentence is a fragment.”

“You aren’t allowed to get red pen all over it. The library doesn’t take them back after that, and I had to pay for Our Parents, Ourselves last week.”

“I didn’t get red pen ‘all over it,’ I corrected it. They should be grateful.”

“Hey, this has a nice picture of a mom and her daughter picking flowers. Isn’t that nice?”

“No.”

“Sure it is. Okay, there’s a checklist. If you answer yes to one or more of these questions, it means you’re at risk to be an abuser. Number one, do you ever have anger issues? Eh, I’ll just check that one for you. Number two, do you feel like the world owes you—“

“Why keep reading if you only have to check one in order to be at risk?”

“Well, if you check three or more, it means you’re at _serious_ risk.”

“Oh, delightful. Fine, I do feel the world owes me.” _I should have just let him tell everyone. I should just run away. I should kill him._

 _Why don’t I?_

“Three, do you ever feel—“

The door opened, and Kotetsu stopped reading. “Kaede! Back home from school already?”

The girl gave her father a perfunctory hug, sitting down on the arm of his chair. “Yep, and I don’t have practice until later. Good afternoon, Mr. Petrov.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Kaburagi,” Yuri said, reminding himself that he actually liked the girl. It was so easy to slip into the polite mask of his judicial office, but Kotetsu always called him on that.

“Ooh, are you guys taking a quiz? Becky and I did one out of a magazine,” she said, craning over her father’s shoulder to see the questions. “It was a ‘What would your NEXT power be?’ quiz.”

“But you already have a NEXT power.”

“Yeah, well, it said mine would be super-speed. Oh, this one looks sad, though.”

“It’s for grown-ups, honey.”

Kaede fixed Yuri with a penetrating look, eyes bright and keen and yet somehow so like her father. Not for the first time, he reminded himself not to underestimate Kaede—or worse, let her touch him.

“Oh, Grandma and Mrs. Petrov said to tell you that dinner is in ten minutes. I gotta go wash up.”

She ducked away from Kotetsu’s attempt to ruffle her hair, waved to Yuri, and left the room.

“See?” Kotetsu said, as he always did any time Kaede left the room. “She still loves me, even though my powers are almost gone.”

“Yes, Kotetsu. I can see that.”

“It doesn’t make me any less worthy of love,” he said, eyes wide as if he hoped he could pour that belief into Yuri with the force of his gaze.

“Mhmm.”

“And I don’t love her any less.”

“Yes.”

“So not everyone—“

“—is like my father, I know, I know.”

“Good session today! Let’s get washed up for dinner. I smell Mom’s hot pot.”

Yuri hated to admit it, but the smell wafting into the room was excellent. He got gingerly to his feet, only grimacing a little at the pain in his side. It was healing, if slowly.

To his relief, his mother was sitting at the table, her wheelchair parked in the corner, helping to spoon roasted greens onto Kaede’s plate. “There you go, dear. Make sure to eat up so you can be big and strong, like your father.”

Kaede smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. Petrov.”

She was a smart child, Yuri reflected. She knew Origa was speaking to her son, as he’d been twenty years ago. Sometimes she spoke to thin air—not that Yuri would know anything about that, of course—and sometimes she spoke to the wrong people. Now, her eyes fixed on Kotetsu, and she beamed. “I made your favorite, dear. Did you have a good day at work?”

It should have been uncomfortable. It should have made Kaede and Anju, who had no reason to put up with his mother’s insanity, want to run screaming from the room. They should have booted the Petrovs out of their home—their lovely, small, _normal_ home—the second they arrived. They shouldn’t have been conversing with dead people, letting tainted memories and old heartbreak into their cozy family lives.

They were, though. Kaede talked about school, Anju pointed out which foods were grown in the backyard, and Origa mentioned a report card Yuri brought home in the seventh grade. No one called her crazy. 

Kotetsu changed his bandage that night, as every night, checking for signs of infection. “Why do you always look like you’re ready to flip the table over whenever someone asks your mother a question?”

“I…you wouldn’t understand.”

Kotetsu frowned. “We talked about your avoidance issues. Dr. Ginny says that’s deflection.”

“Dr. Ginny has a degree from an online school.”

“It’s still a degree! And you’re avoiding again.”

Whoever allowed Kaburagi Kotetsu around psychologists and self-help books should be shot. Or set on fire. Yuri would be happy to do the job. He sighed, then said, “I need to protect her.”

“From what? My mom was just asking her which season she liked the best.”

“I know. I…it’s my fault she’s like this. If I’d found another way, stopped my father earlier, or told someone...”

“That’s not your fault.”

Yuri turned away. “I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”

Kotetsu put a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, turned him back to face the other man. “Maybe I do. More than you think.”

“How? How could—“

“You’re not the only guy in the world to have a father, okay?”

Yuri usually prided himself on being observant. He could hardly believe he’d waited so long to ask such an obvious question. His only excuse was that it was really none of his business. Yet, obviously, Kotetsu wanted him to ask now. “Kotetsu? What happened to your father?”

“Left. When I was eight.”

Yuri saw the set of his shoulders and made a guess. “He left when you started showing powers.”

“I tried to keep it to myself as long as I could,” Kotetsu said, bundling up the old bandages, not looking Yuri in the eye. “He never made a secret out of hating NEXT. Said they were freaks that didn’t deserve to live around decent people. This is a long time ago, you know.”

“It’s not like that prejudice isn’t still alive today. Remember Rotwang?”

Kotetsu grimaced, hand over a scar on his torso. “My ribs do, every time it rains. My dad wasn’t a villain, or anything. Nice guy, for the most part. Just didn’t like NEXT.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “I remember sneaking out to my friend’s house to watch Hero TV. It was in black and white then—remember, I’m old. I used to see them flying around, saving people, and…it was always what I wanted to do. Then, when I got my powers…if it hadn’t been for that station, I’d have probably run away from home, or jumped in front of a train.”

He said it so frankly, so matter-of-fact, that Yuri started. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I was a kid. Everyone’s different then.”

Yuri tried to imagine what it would have been like had his father not been the man he was. “I wanted NEXT powers,” he admitted. “When I was a kid. I had so many daydreams of being my father’s sidekick, before…”

Kotetsu laughed. “I wanted to be his sidekick, too. Can you imagine us, following around after him? Mr. Legend, Wild Tiger, and Lunatic?”

“Pretty strange group,” Yuri said, allowing a small smile onto his mouth at the ridiculous image. The smile faded as the man himself started to appear in the corner, watching, judging.

Kotetsu sighed. “Ah, well. I’d better go tuck Kaede into bed.”

“Wait.” Yuri reached out and grabbed Kotetsu’s hand, and the forming image of Mr. Legend dissolved.

Kotetsu watched him for a moment, silent. Then, he said quietly, “It’s not as bad as you thought, right? I knew you were tough enough to handle it.”

The approval in that voice—Yuri wished he didn’t crave it, but couldn’t deny that he did. Somewhere deep inside was the feeling that if this man, if Kotetsu thought he was doing well, he was worth something, he was worth _saving_ , then….just maybe…

Kotetsu leaned forward and gave Yuri a hug, the kind that even silenced the murderous cold whispers constantly trickling into Yuri’s mind. 

They started again when he left, of course. They always did. But to have peace, surcease, even for just a moment, was more than Yuri ever thought he could have.

*

It couldn’t last forever. He had to leave, before things got more out of control. 

Four weeks was more than enough time, far longer than he should have stayed. He was furious with himself for being so _weak_ as to stay, even if it was partly for his mother’s sake. She seemed so rested, better than he’d seen her in fifteen years. He felt better, despite the wound in his side, than he had in the same amount of time.

But it couldn’t last.

The catastrophes had started piling up.

Kaede, reaching for the salt at the dinner table, brushed his arm. That night, everyone awoke to a shriek as she tried to use her father’s Hundred Power to train in the backyard, and set the fence on fire.

Brooks, coming over to check on Kotetsu, finding Yuri in the spare bedroom. No matter how much he had explained, he didn’t think the blond man would take him at his word.

Kotetsu’s brother, coming over every day to make sure neither Yuri nor his mother were bothering Anju or Kaede.

Better Yuri leave now, go back to the cold dark life he’d carved himself a decade and a half earlier. Better to keep his mother there, out of the sun, away from prying eyes. Nothing good would happen. Nothing bad could touch them, except what they’d brought in.

Thanatos, the whispers in his mind that spurred him to do his bidding, to become Lunatic, was strangely muffled at the Kaburagi home. Yuri missed that clarity of purpose, the knowledge that he was purifying the world, doing well by someone, even as much as he craved release from it. 

“So, that’s it?”

Yuri didn’t bother turning around. He put the last of his clothing into the suitcase and flipped the catch. “That’s it.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I like nighttime.”

“You’re going back to being Lunatic.” Kotetsu’s voice was more sad than anything.

“I never stopped. I’ve always been Lunatic. Weren’t you still Wild Tiger?”

“That’s different.”

“How? Because you don’t agree with what I’m doing?”

“Because what you’re doing is wrong! I thought you understood that by now!”

 _“You know he’s right, Yuri. You’ve always known that. Will you put on your mask again and become a murderer?”_

“I’m doing what’s right! Evil must be punished!” 

“Because you don’t think you deserve a better life?”

Yuri’s hand twitched, urged to throw a blast of fire at that well-intentioned face. “Don’t quote Doctor Ginny at me. You can’t possibly believe that tripe.”

“Why not, huh? I can believe whatever I want?”

“You can’t possibly believe I’m worth saving. You’re going to kill me yourself, remember? Your job is arresting idiots like me?”

“Huh?”

“You said that. At Hero Academy, years ago. Right before you broke my mask.”

Kotetsu shook his head slowly. “I still have a hard time believing that was you the whole time.”

“Well, it was.” He moved to push past Kotetsu, but the other man grabbed his arm. 

“It was you when they had that robot after me, too.”

 _Damn_.

Yuri knew from the look in Kotetsu’s eyes that he’d been avoiding that topic just as hard as Yuri had been, over the past month. 

Kotetsu’s hand closed over Yuri’s on the suitcase, gently took it from him. “You thought I was worth saving.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“You _are_.”

“So are you.” Kotetsu’s eyes searched Yuri’s, looking intensely for something. 

Yuri scowled, turned away. “You think everyone is worth saving.”

“Yeah, I do. And I’m not going to make an exception for you. Stay. Let me keep trying.”

“Sternbild needs Wild Tiger.”

“It needs Judge Petrov, too.” Kotetsu grinned. “I’m sure the other Heroes have gotten out of a lot of fines while you were gone.”

“All the more reason I have to get back.” Why did he want to stay? Why did Kotetsu’s touch make the voices, the visions leave him alone?

Kotetsu seemed as reluctant to let Yuri leave as Yuri was to leave. He put himself between Yuri and the door, blocking it with his body. “Just one more night. Stay one more night, and leave in the morning.”

Yuri scoffed. “What could you possibly home to accomplish in one night?”

Kotetsu shrugged. “I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish in a month, either. Just give me one more chance.”

Yuri wavered, his resolve more fragile than ever. As if sensing it, the voices grew louder, his father clearer, until all he could hear was _“punish evil justice murderers suffer sinners justice_ ” over and over again, a constant litany of crackling words that blurred his vision with their intensity.

He grabbed at his head, squeezing the sides of it, hands fisted in his own hair. “Stop, stop, stop,” he muttered.

Thanatos hissed into his mind. _TRAITOR._

His father, arms folded over his chest. _“You’ll never be free, Yuri.”_

“Stop it, please!”

 _What are you, without me? You’ve strayed from your purpose, Yuri._

 _“You’ll never be free of what you did. Do you even deserve to be free?”_

 _This man has confused you. He is a sinner._

“No!”

 _Those who prevent justice from being done must be punished by justice._

Yuri felt his eyes spark to life, saw Kotetsu flinch back. That made him angry, let Thanatos’s voice grow louder in his mind.

 _He deserves to die. Cleanse the world of him._

 _“Will you make the same mistake again?”_

Yuri’s voice shook as he announced, “None can defy the will of Thanatos. Hear his voice, Sinner.”

“Yuri…”

 _Yuri!_

 _“Yuri!”_

He couldn’t be Yuri, not if he was Lunatic. The scar on his face ached as if brand-new, as if his father’s hand were even now pressing against his skin, fire searing into his flesh, branding him—cursed. Murderer. Forsaken.

Kotetsu would be the first, the man attempting to “save” him. Save him? From the voice of Thanatos?

There was no release from that service, from his oath. His hands erupted into flame, the voice came from his mouth, and—

And there was a mouth against his.

Fire spewed from his hands, his eyes, but Kotetsu’s mouth was hot against his, sealing their lips together.

The fire died.

The voices fell silent.

Still, Kotetsu kept kissing him, tongue darting out to brush against Yuri’s lips, coaxing them open, kissing him deeply. His beard rasped against Yuri’s chin, his hands came up to cup the sides of Yuri’s face, and…

And he was a _good_ kisser.

Yuri moaned into his mouth, suddenly aware that there was nothing on earth he wanted more than this, exactly this. It wasn’t just a kiss, not the way Kotetsu’s hands were so warm against his cold skin, the way Kotetsu held him, unafraid that Yuri would turn on him. He thought, vaguely, when he could think at all, that he would be quite content to be kissed by that talented mouth for hours on end.

Kotetsu’s kiss disarmed him. It stripped away all the lies, all the fears, and even better, all the truths. All that was left was the man holding him. 

The kiss went on longer than any kiss in Yuri’s life, certainly. Every time he thought Kotetsu was about to stop or pull away, the other man kissed him harder, until Yuri’s hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, moving down to his torso. Kotetsu pushed him up against the wall, and Yuri groaned. 

He had to be closer to Kotetsu. That was the only thought that could penetrate the emotions clouding his mind. He yanked frantically at the other man’s shirt, tearing buttons in his hurry to get it off without breaking the kiss. Skin, yes, skin was better.

Kotetsu’s hands were on his own shirt, felt just as eager as his own, and they were pressed chest to chest, Yuri trapped between Kotetsu and the wall.

It still wasn’t close enough. The way Kotetsu was touching him, rousing his body, he mindlessly craved _more_. It was the first time anyone’s touch had done that to him, and for the first time he understood why people threw their marriages and careers away for a night of passion. It made sense, if those nights felt anything like this.

Kotetsu’s hand traced down his stomach, making his muscles jump and quiver, and grabbed onto his hip, pulling them together.

Yuri broke the kiss for the first time, gasping as Kotetsu’s hardness ground against his, white-hot pleasure crackling through his body from his lower abdomen. He was afraid the spell of the kiss would be broken, but miraculously, it continued even after Kotetsu’s reddened lips left his. 

“Don’t stop,” Yuri said, unashamed at how hungry he sounded. 

Kotetsu gave him a crooked grin, cheeks flushed under his tan, and pressed their hips together again. “Furthest thing from my mind.”

God, the things that grin did to him. How could something so small as a smile make his heart go faster, make him relax all at the same time? Why did the look in those warm brown eyes make him fumble for Kotetsu’s belt, desperate for the touch of more skin?

Who _cared_?

Kotetsu’s hands were rough, gentle, gliding over his skin, tracing the line of his spine. “Damn,” he murmured into Yuri’s ear. “You’ve got to give me some workout tips.”

“Shut up and get your pants off.”

Kotetsu laughed, but not unkindly. He obliged, and Yuri’s eyes slid downward as if drawn by a magnet. 

Kotetsu brushed his hair back from his face. This time, Yuri didn’t try to hide. “I’m not trying to be nosy, but…have you done this with a guy before?”

Yuri nodded, then shook his head.

“Okay, what does that mean?”

His face burned, but it was hard to be embarrassed when talking to Kotetsu. “Just—hands. In college. Once.” And he’d been so confused and ashamed afterwards that he’d spent three hours in the shower, with Thanatos hissing into his ear.

“So you mostly like girls?”

He shook his head sharply. “Never.”

To his credit, Kotetsu didn’t let his jaw drop or ask, “Really?” He did look a little nervous, but Yuri kissed him again. _I want this,_ he tried to tell him with that kiss, with his touch. _I want you._

He slid his hand down, until he wrapped his fingers around Kotetsu’s cock. He ran it through his fingers, stroking it slowly, admiring the warmth, the texture, the way it filled his hand with its girth.

Kotetsu’s breathing grew labored, and he pulled back to rest his forehead against Yuri’s. “Y-you feel like you’ve done this more than once.”

Yuri snorted. “I’ve got my own, you know. They aren’t all _that_ different.”

“Can I?”

What kind of question was that, when they’d been pressed up against each other with hungry kisses, when Yuri was still stroking Kotetsu’s cock? A Kotetsu question, Yuri answered himself with a smile, and let go of the other man long enough to take off his pants.

Somehow, being naked together changed everything. Kotetsu was on him again, long lean body rubbing up against his own, and it was deliciously raw without clothing in the way. Despite having his senses clouded with lust, Yuri felt like he could think clearly for the first time since his father’s death, without the ghosts of his mind butting in with opinions every ten seconds. 

 _Were they really me? Maybe they were real, after all, and he’s protecting me._ Maybe Thanatos was really an avenging god of death and torment, and Kotetsu’s touch drove him away. Maybe his father’s ghost was just that, and not the fevered hallucination of a broken mind.

Maybe he really was sane.

Yuri wrapped his legs around Kotetsu’s waist, his arms around his neck, pulled him down with every movement. His back arched, and he whimpered as his hard, slippery length pressed up against Kotetsu’s, smearing clear fluid over both stomachs. 

Kotetsu planted his knees on the bed, yanked Yuri’s hips up hard. His eyes were as wild as his Hero name, and it struck home for the first time that Kotetsu _wanted_ him. Kotetsu, the kind and gentle man whose antics made even Yuri laugh, who was so good to his daughter, who still wore a wedding ring after nearly a decade, who was the only person alive that knew Yuri was Lunatic. He _wanted_ Yuri, even after all of that.

 _You can have me_ , he thought, for once surrendering control. 

It was a surprise when the wave crested, when his hips thrust up hard and he spent himself against Kotetsu’s belly, his cries swallowed by the other man’s lips. He let Kotetsu hold him—would never get tired of letting Kotetsu hold him—and closed his eyes in tremors of bliss. “Now,” he murmured, when his voice returned. “In me, now.”

“B-but—“

Yuri ran his hand through his release, then stroked Kotetsu’s cock, slicking it from base to tip. “Please.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“I don’t care. I—no, I _want_ it to.” Yuri looked up at that concerned face, explaining, though he didn’t know where the words were coming from, “I want to feel it tomorrow.” He wanted to feel it forever, Kotetsu’s touch marking his body. _Rip away what I am. Make me into the man you see. I’d do anything to be that man._

In Kotetsu’s arms, he _was_ that man.

It hurt, but he had expected it to, wanted it to, and he was used to pain. Kotetsu went slow, keeping it from hurting _too_ much, bringing out the pleasure Yuri had been afraid to want.

Yuri wrapped his legs firmly around the other man, feet pulling him deeper inside. His head fell back, mouth open into an “O” as Kotetsu stretched him, hard and thick, forcing himself inside little by little. 

If they ever did this again, which Yuri fervently hoped they would, he would make sure to prepare properly. But this, this burning, spreading ache that set off fireworks in his mind, that drove away every thought except wanting _more_ , this was worth the effort.

The look of surprised wonder on Kotetsu’s face when he fully seated himself took Yuri’s breath away. He sealed it into his mind, filed under “memories that did more good in one second than an entire shelf of self-help books did in a month.” 

Yuri’s breathing evened out, and he nodded. Kotetsu thrust once, and something snapped between them. It was hungry kisses again, deep stroking thrusts, pants and whimpers and screams swallowed by lips, muffled by a pillow when they had to. 

Kotetsu growled when he came, teeth sinking into Yuri’s lip until a tiny trickle of blood ran into his mouth. They collapsed, twitching and sweating, limbs tangled together.

There were words for what had happened, words Yuri was sure had to be said. He didn’t say them. Kotetsu smiled, as if he had.

Maybe in a way he had.

*

Yuri tried not to wake up. That never worked. As soon as he thought that he’d like more sleep, he was instantly awake.

He was alone in bed. The thought sent a panic through him. _He’s gone. That’s fine, but they’ll start again. I’ll see Papa telling me I’m corrupting Kotetsu. Thanatos will make me kill him. I…_

He stopped panicking.

His head was silent.

Cautiously, he got to his feet, tugging on the cloth pants and t-shirt he’d worn for his convalescence. Still, no voices. Certain parts of him reported in that they’d been wildly abused the night before, but no voices.

He padded barefoot into the hallway, muscles aching every step of the way. Through the open door, he saw Kotetsu sitting on the floor with Kaede in her room, teasing her and tweaking her nose as she protested.

Still his father didn’t materialize.

He walked farther, until he reached the room his mother had been sharing with Anju. She was alone, looking out the window at the little backyard garden. “Lettuce will be coming in soon,” she remarked, hearing his footfalls.

“Yes, Mama.”

“After that, there’ll be beets. Your father loves beets.”

“Mama, I have to go back to Sternbild.”

She turned and looked at him. For a moment, her eyes darkened, and he braced himself.

She smiled. “You should bring Kotetsu. He’s good for you.”

She turned back to the garden, softly singing an old song of farewells in Russian.

When he returned to his room, Kotetsu was waiting for him, Yuri’s suitcase in one hand, his own in the other. “Let’s go home,” he said, and it was the only sound Yuri heard.


End file.
